


Next Best Thing

by eiluned



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-23 00:58:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eiluned/pseuds/eiluned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Separate solo missions suck.  But that's why phones were invented.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next Best Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for cottoncandy_bingo prompt: "masturbation." So I'm sure you can see where this is going. :D Thanks to Amanda and Sidhe for the quick beta reads! And omg, I finished my bingo before the deadline. Feedback will be given a loving home! <3

It was part of the job, but Clint really fucking hated it when he and Natasha were on separate solo missions.

It wasn't that he couldn't function without her or anything stupid like that. He got along just fine in the twenty-nine years before he met her, thank you very much. He had just gotten used to having her around: her sly little smile, her husky voice, her soft skin, the sweet smell of her hair, the feel of her body underneath him or on top of him or beside him or behind him.

He sighed heavily and stared up at the water-stained ceiling in his shitty hotel room, his hand creeping stealthily down his bare chest, as if he were trying to sneak up on his own dick.

That thought made him let out a snort of laughter, and he rubbed his face with both hands, planting his feet on the mattress.

He missed Nat. A lot.

As if on cue, his mobile phone buzzed on the nightstand, and he groped for it without looking, his hand over his eyes as if that would keep the mental image of Natasha emblazoned on the inside of his eyelids. "Yeah?" he said gruffly.

"Well, hello to you, too, Barton."

The sound of her voice made him jolt straight upright, and he wondered not for the first time if she was some kind of damn mind reader. "Nat, hey," he said, nearly laughing at himself again for sounding like an overly eager teenage boy. "Was just thinking about you."

"Oh really?" she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "Thinking about me doing what?"

Flopping back down on his back, he grinned up at the ceiling. "I could lie and say I was thinking about you kicking ass over there in Seoul," he said.

"Hm, you could, but you know I like it when you tell me the truth."

"The truth, huh?" he murmured, closing his eyes again. "Well, to be completely honest, I was thinking about unzipping your suit and following the zipper with my tongue."

Her little chuckle sent a surge of blood to his groin, and his dick, which was already getting interested in the proceedings, stiffened and lengthened against his stomach. "That's funny," she purred, and he suppressed a groan at the sound of her voice. "I was just thinking about crawling between your legs and licking my way up to to your cock."

"Fuck," he laughed, finally giving in and reaching down to rub his thumb against the head of his erection. "So you miss me, Tash?"

She made a little humming sound, and he imagined she was making that noise with her face pressed against his neck. "Yes," she said simply, and he loved that about her, too, that she was a word conservationist, saving them up for just when he needed to hear them most.

"I miss you, too," he said, listening to her soft sigh. "A lot."

He could hear a soft sound through the phone, a faint rasp like skin on cotton. "You in bed?" he asked, sliding his hand down to cup his balls.

"Mm-hm," she replied, and he imagined her lying on her back in a tangle of white hotel sheets. "It is 3 a.m. here, you know. Most people are in bed."

"True, but you're awake and on the phone with me," he said. "So what are you doing awake in bed at 3 a.m.?"

"What do you think I'm doing, Barton?"

Oh, that was breathy and soft and pitched just right to make him arch his back and grip his cock. "Tell me," he whispered, and he imagined Natasha biting her bottom lip and giving him that look, the one that said she wanted him right then and there.

"I'm thinking about you," she murmured. "I wanted to hear your voice."

"I'm thinking about you, too, baby," he breathed. "God, I wish I could touch you--"

"I'm touching myself and imagining that it's you."

Air left Clint's lungs as if he'd been punched in the gut, and he squeezed his cock tightly. "Fuck," he groaned.

"It's not the same," she said softly. "But if I close my eyes and listen to your voice, it's almost like you're touching me."

"Tell me where to touch you, Tasha."

He could hear the sheets rustling through the phone, and he imagined her spreading her legs, lifting her knees so she could squeeze her thighs together, just how she did it when he ran his fingers through the slickness between her legs.

"I want your hand between my thighs, rubbing against me," she said, and there was a little hitch in her voice, like she'd just rubbed her clit. "And I want your other hand on my breast, teasing me."

"Oh god, sweetheart," he breathed, stroking his cock steadily. "God, I love watching you writhe when I touch you. I love knowing that I'm making you feel that good--"

"You make me feel so good, Clint, so good..." she whimpered.

"Push your fingers into your pussy, Tasha," he said, rubbing his fingers in circles against the sensitive spot on his dick, right below the head. "Pretend it's my cock inside you, baby. Pretend I'm fucking you--"

Her little cry nearly made him lose it, and he gripped the base of his cock hard, not ready to let go of the fantasy just yet. "Oh god yes," she gasped, her breath hitching over and over now, and he loved that she could get off on the sound of his voice alone, on her own fingers imagining that they were his body.

"That's right, baby," he moaned, stroking himself again and planting his feet against the mattress. "That's right. You're riding me and I'm playing with your gorgeous tits, Tash, and it's so fucking good. I love watching you when you're on top of me, how your tits bounce when you really start riding me hard..."

The only reply to that was a half-muffled moan, as if she'd turned her face into the pillow, but he took that as encouragement to keep going. It was a good thing, too, because he was already too far gone to slow down. His hips pumped his cock into his fist like they had a mind of their own, and he was completely wrapped up in the fantasy, in the sound of her harsh breathing in his ear and the mental image of her body on top of his.

"I love watching you come," he growled. "I love how tight you get on my cock and how your whole body shakes, like it feels so fucking good you can't control yourself, and I love coming inside you when you're still shaking and moaning--"

She cried out his name then, the sharp exclamation that went along with an orgasm, and he was caught between two images in his mind, one of her bucking on top of him and the other of her twisting in her sheets, her hand buried between her legs. His own building orgasm suddenly burst open in his body, and he arched up with a shout, jerking at his cock as it spurted come onto his chest and stomach.

It took a few long moments for him to catch his breath and put his mind back together, and he lay there with semen cooling on his skin, listening to her breathing even out over the phone.

"Clint?" she said, her voice quiet and husky.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" he answered, his own voice pretty rusty.

"I've really missed you," she said, and he closed his eyes again, wanting to hold her so badly that it made him ache.

"I think I'm gonna be back in New York on Sunday," he said. "How about you?"

"Monday."

Opening his eyes, he looked at the ceiling again. "Three days," he said. "Three days, and then we're locking ourselves in the apartment and turning off our phones. The world's not gonna end if Coulson has to leave a voicemail."

"I can't wait," she said, and her tone wasn't teasing at all; it warmed him all over to know she was as desperate for him as he was for her.

After a long, comfortable pause, Clint sighed reluctantly. "I'd better let you go, darlin'," he said. "I need to clean up, and you'd better get some sleep."

"Mm, if I were there, I'd clean you up," she replied, laughing when he groaned. "You get some sleep, too."

"I will. Gonna dream about you."

She laughed again, a soft little huff of breath, and he closed his eyes and smiled. "Hey, Clint?" she murmured.

"Yeah?"

"Love you."

His breath got caught on its way in, and he had to let it out on a sigh. She always saved the right words for when he really needed to hear them, and he loved her for it. "Love you, too."

He listened to the call disconnect.


End file.
